Poetry: Parental Ode To My Son: Aged Three Years And Five Mo...

Thou happ}-, happy elf! (But etop- firet let me kiss away tliat tear) Thou tiny imago of myself! (Mylove, he'a poking pens in his car) Thou merry leughingsprite! With spirits feiilhcr light, tJntouched by eorrow, and unsoiled by sin, (Good heavens! thechild is swallowing a pin!) Thou littlo tricksy Puck! With antic toys so funnily bestuck, Liglitaa lhe Sjftging bird that wings the air - (The door! lhe door! he'll tumble down the W etair!) Thou dnriingof thy sire! (Why, Jone, he'll pet his pinofore a fire!) r The impof niinh nnd joy! In love's dear cluiii so strong and briht a link,) J Thou idol of thy parents (Drnt the boy! R Thcre oes my ink!) w Thou cherub- bul of carth; fit playfellow for Fnys by moonlight pale, In harmlesi sport nnd mirth, {That dog: will bite hira ifhë pulls his taiü) F Thou human humming bee, exlracting honey r Frora every blossom in the world limt blows, C Singing m youtli's Elysium ever sunny, [ i(Another tunible- that's his precious nose!) a Thy father's pridc nnd hope! v .(He'il brenK the nnrror vvi th that skipping ( rope') b Witli pure heart newly stomped from nature's mint, (Where did he learn that squint?) r Thou young doniestic dove! HeMI have that jug off with another thove!; Dearnursünjofihehymcn'.al nest ! Are tliose torn dollies his best?) Little epitome of man! lle'll dimb upon the tahle, that ''is pían!) i tToucned with the bcauleous tinls of dawning t Hfe, c (Eltí'sgol a knife!) c Tliouenviable bein! . fio storms, no clouo's, in thy blue eky foreetcing, l'lay on, nlay on, Riy eifin John! Toh8 the Hghtball - bestrido the stick, (! knew so mnny cakes would mako him eick,) Wich fancie's buoyant as the this-tle-down, Promptihg thefuce'groslfque, and antic brisk With many a lamblike frisk, He's got the 6Cis3ore, suippiig at your gown!) Thou pretty opening rose! Go to yöuf mother, child, and wipe your nose!) Balmy, end breathing music like the South, {He really brings my heart into my mouth!) Fresh as the nmrn, nnd biilliant as its star, (I wish that window had nn iron bar! Bold as the hawk, gentle as the dove, l'll lell you what, my love, I cannot wri'e uniese ho's pont nbove!)